


something unconditional

by Suicix



Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Anal Sex, Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sexual Content, Touring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-30
Updated: 2016-08-30
Packaged: 2018-08-11 22:31:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7910095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Suicix/pseuds/Suicix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Hotel nights are the best nights for a whole multitude of reasons, Drew thinks. And this is <b>clearly</b> one of the most important.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	something unconditional

**Author's Note:**

> [trips and falls] [like 5000 band aus fall out of my pockets] listen, i can explain,
> 
> also, i'm pretty sure this is like the quickest i've ever written ~6k of the same thing. i expected this to be a third of the length it is and the fact that i wrote all this in less than a week is incredible for me??? yeah, when i write long-ish things i write circa 2013 era rare pairs, deal with it.

Hotel nights are the best nights for a whole multitude of reasons, Drew thinks, perhaps the most important of those being – _well_. Maybe he shouldn’t say that the most important of those reasons is because hotel nights usually mean sex, but… it’s kind of true. Sure, there are other good things about it: getting to sleep in a bed rather than a bunk, for one, and the fact that being in a band with your boyfriend means you get to sleep next to him instead of alone or separately in bunks on the bus.

But also the fact that it means they get to fuck. Like, actually _really_ fuck, with no worries about time constraints or if someone might walk in or overhear. Of course, there’s all the likelihood they won’t – sometimes they’re too tired from travelling or performing – but still. Drew’s pretty confident about it tonight, considering how full of adrenaline he and Jinder both are after such a fantastic show, but you never can be sure. Got to ask, even if it’s goddamn obvious they both want it.

Drew waits until they’ve got settled in the room before bringing it up, until they’ve each dumped the bag they brought off the bus for the night on the floor and the right lights are on.

“Do you want to?” he says, stepping closer to Jinder and therefore also closer to the bed. He thinks it’s fairly clear what he’s asking for.

“Hm?” Jinder turns his head to look at Drew behind him.

“Do you want to fuck is what I’m asking. And you _know_ that, it’s no good trying to play coy with me.”

Jinder rolls his eyes and turns around properly this time.

“What do you think?” he says. “We have a hotel room to ourselves. A big bed to ourselves.”

“I think yes, then,” Drew says, moving even closer still, and Jinder’s agreement comes in the form of a kiss.

It’s deep and it’s both love and lust and Drew wants to cling to it for as long as he lives. He gets one hand up to cup Jinder’s face, and then there’s one of Jinder’s hands in his hair, and _oh_ , Drew needs this. Moaning into this is definitely not optional. After Drew does – surprisingly loudly, even for him – Jinder pulls back, but stays close, his forehead pressed to Drew’s.

“Definitely yes,” he says, and the next kiss is briefer, is somewhat rougher.

“The bed, then,” says Drew. They’re still so close that he can grind his hips against Jinder’s for a moment without even having to move very much, and all that does is confirm _yes_. They both definitely want this.

Drew does away with his shirt on the way over to the bed, not caring where on the floor it lands. There’s only one thing he cares about right now, only one person, and it’s Jinder. He tries to pounce, tries to get closer, but Jinder stops him.

“Hey, give me a moment,” Jinder says, setting himself down on the edge of the bed. “Let me like, at least get my shoes and socks off first. You should do the same.”

There’s really no possible way to make that – just taking off your shoes and socks – sexy at all, so Drew just does it as quickly as possible so they can get to it even sooner. So they can get to sex, to – _god_. To everything Drew wants. The moment Jinder’s done, Drew moves to be next to him on the bed. He’s ready for anything Jinder wants to give him, ready to give back just as much as he gets and even more than that.

They kiss again – Drew kneeling up on the bed, almost but not quite straddling Jinder’s lap – and Drew lets a hand settle on Jinder’s hip, at the hem of his t-shirt, because the fact that he’s still got it on _really_ isn’t fair. It’s easy to pull the shirt off once they break apart, and it joins Drew’s on the carpet. There’s bare skin for Drew to touch now, so he does, and Jinder does the same for him, pulling Drew in closer so he can get his mouth on Drew’s chest, on his collarbones and neck.

“Please,” Drew says, the word totally involuntary though he wants this so damn much.

“What do you want?” Jinder asks once he’s drawn a little further away from Drew’s body. His eyes are somehow even darker and wider because _he wants this, too_ , looking right up into Drew’s as he waits for an answer. It’s not just desire that Drew finds there, either: there’s also real, genuine care, the kind of love he never thought he’d find living a life on the road like this.

“I want you to fuck me,” is the answer Drew gives after a moment of consideration. “Well. I wanna ride you, actually. Want to be on top of you and tight around you while you get to lie back and watch me.”

“We can do that.” There’s an easy smirk on Jinder’s face, one that anyone other than Drew would have some trouble getting there. “We can definitely do that. In fact, I think that can be very easily done.”

“Very easily done for you since you don’t actually have to do anything,” Drew shoots back, and Jinder raises an eyebrow.

“I have to open you up for me first,” he says. “Without that, we can’t do anything. Unless…”

“Unless what, unless I do it myself?” Drew can’t keep the grin off his face. “Filthy, wanting to watch me do that.”

“But you _like_ being watched,” Jinder says, and – _well_. Drew can’t find any fault with that. It’s part of the reason why he’s a musician, why he’s a _performer_. This is just a different kind of performance altogether. “I’ll still do it, though. Just because I want to do something for you.”

“And because you’ll still get to watch me later,” Drew adds.

“And because of that.” Jinder smiles at him. “Though mostly because I like to think I’m a good boyfriend who does nice things for _his_ boyfriend.”

“You are,” Drew tells him. He means it, he really does. “Believe me, you are. Now…”

“Now?”

“Now,” Drew repeats, hands moving to the waistband of Jinder’s jeans, slowly working around to the front, fingers skimming along the fabric. “Now, _this_.”

He’s quick to undo the button and the zip, to press his hand to where Jinder’s already getting hard for him. Even through fabric, it’s enough that Jinder hisses at the touch.

“Don’t stop,” he says, actually shuddering when Drew increases the pressure of his hand. “Yeah, that’s – that’s it. Here, let me.”

One of his hands is on Drew now, doing just the same thing. He takes a little longer to get into Drew’s pants with only one hand doing the work, but the brief wait to be touched proves well worth it when he finally gets at some skin. Drew hums, the noise deep in his chest, and pushes his hips forward to rock himself against Jinder’s hand, feeling his own cock getting harder at both the touch and the promise of what’s to come. It’s been too long since they’ve got to do this properly, and he needs it. He can’t put into words how much he needs it. To speed things up, Drew decides that he’s got to get his clothes off. What’s left of them, anyway.

He’s all too aware of Jinder watching him as he does – _wanting_ him as he does – and he can’t help but tease a little, taking it slowly. It’s also difficult not to smirk at the way Jinder’s looking at him once he’s naked.

“Oh, you like what you’re seeing, don’t you?” Drew teases, tossing jeans and underwear aside with even less regard about where they end up than he was with his shirt earlier. Drew can’t see if Jinder’s blushing or not, but – well. He has to be. When Drew moves in for a kiss, one hand on Jinder’s face, the skin is flushed hot. Just as Drew thought.

“Get, like – lube. A condom,” Jinder says when Drew pulls back from it. They’re still so close that Jinder’s breath is tickling Drew’s face as he speaks. “In my bag. Or yours, even. We’ll both have something.”

Drew nods.

“I’m on it.”

He moves away from the bed and searches his bag, chucking both items over to Jinder once he’s found what he’s looking for. Once Drew’s back on the bed, Jinder’s already got the rest of his clothes off, already getting his fingers slick with lube, already just waiting for him. Drew sprawls out on the bed on his front, facing away from Jinder. He’s ready for this. He’s so, so ready for this.

But maybe not quite so ready that he can keep in the soft groan when the first of Jinder’s fingers presses into him. There’s a hum from behind him, a reaction to the noise he made, and the finger inside him gets in there a little deeper before a second one joins it. The extra stretch makes him shudder, and the tips of Jinder’s fingers catching his prostate makes him moan for real this time. Even this is incredible already, and if they took it really slow, he could probably fall apart from just this. Drew imagines it: lying on a bed like this, his cock hard and wet with precome but devoid of touch, fingers teasing him but doing nothing more than that as he tries to keep in his orgasm to make it as good as possible. He can’t keep the idea of doing the same for Jinder out of his head, either. He pictures Jinder on his back, himself kneeling between Jinder’s spread legs, and Jinder’s eyes on him, trusting him as he works to take Jinder apart with only his touch. Both those images are amazing, have his cock even harder, and Drew _wants_ , but that isn’t tonight. Drew’s already said what he wants out of this, and Jinder’s willing to give it to him.

“That’s it,” Drew says after a while longer, after a third finger has joined the other two and the stretch feels like it’s enough. “That’s it, I’m ready.”

He turns around almost as soon as Jinder’s pulled his hand away, waiting for Jinder to lie back and rip open the condom wrapper and get it on before shifting so he’s kneeling over Jinder, straddling his lap, ready to sink down onto his cock. Drew gives it a moment, a rare, brief second where he actually stops to take everything in: the way they’re both breathing, how warm Jinder feels underneath him, his own heart beating in his chest.

“Come on,” Jinder says when Drew still doesn’t move. He’s smiling, and the words are soft, not impatient at all. “Come on.”

There’s no point in waiting around any longer. Drew finally pushes his body down onto Jinder, and – _shit_. That’s it. That’s what Drew’s been wanting all week, what he’s been craving every time they manage to find the time and space for a quick exchange of orgasms when they’re alone on the bus or at a venue. Jinder’s hands come to rest on Drew’s sides, helping him keep steady, and Drew gets a rhythm started up. He only goes slowly for now, still adjusting to the perfect stretch of Jinder inside him.

“Is this good for you?” Jinder asks. He always asks, whatever he’s doing, and the answer is almost always _yes_ , but Drew knows it’s good of him, knows he’s lucky that Jinder truly cares this much about what he’s doing.

And the answer is most definitely yes right now. Definitely yes because it _is_ good, because he can make it good for Jinder in return.

“Aye,” Drew says, the word mostly breath and little of anything else. He’s still just moving slowly, letting himself rise and sink to a pace that matches his breathing, increasing that pace as his breathing picks up.

“Good,” Jinder tells him. He can’t seem to hold in the moan when Drew comes down on him just that bit rougher and harder than before. “This is good for me, too.”

Drew would damn well hope that it is.

“You were fantastic tonight,” Drew finds himself saying as he carries on, after a short while of no talking but just fucking and the noise it makes. “Sounded fantastic, looked fantastic… I couldn’t stop glancing across at you.” Keeping an eye on your bandmates is only the sensible thing to do, really, but sometimes he really can’t tear himself away from Jinder. And it’s not only because he’s thinking **_wow_** _, that’s my boyfriend_ , either, but because Jinder genuinely is that good. They’re lucky to have him in the band, and Drew’s lucky that he gets to have Jinder here, like this, beneath him on the mattress. “All – all controlled and note-perfect and just – just perfect overall, really. I mean, the things I wanted to do to you up on that stage. The things you _made_ me want to do to you.” Drew leaves it there for now – Jinder isn’t quite the exhibitionist that he is himself, so Drew doesn’t want to make him feel uncomfortable, but to his surprise, Jinder enables it.

“Oh? And what would that be?”

Drew lets there be a pause before he speaks, just giving Jinder a moment to anticipate.

“Would have got down on my knees for you and sucked you off right then and there. I mean, I would have had to get your guitar out of the way first, but still.”

“I don’t think that would be very audience-friendly,” Jinder says, but he still nods his head for Drew to carry on. “Go on.”

“Or I’d get you bent over like, a stack of amps for me and I’d fuck you just the way you like,” Drew continues. “All slow to start with my hands all over you. I’d lean in, my head on your shoulder and my words in your ear and my mouth on your neck, but I wouldn’t touch your cock yet. I’d get you all worked up and only touch you when you really, really needed it, and by that time we’d _both_ be so worked up that we wouldn’t be able to last much longer.”

“ _Fuck_.” There’s a pause before Jinder says it – probably making sure Drew’s finished before speaking. His hands squeeze at Drew’s hips just that bit tighter. “That’s – holy shit, Drew.”

“I know.” Drew can’t tell what Jinder’s specifically referring to – the idea of what Drew just said or how Drew feels around him – but he agrees all the same. He smirks, fucking down on Jinder a little harder now – barely a change but enough for them both to feel it. “What about you, hm? Got any fantasies like that that you’d like to shed some light on?”

The look Jinder shoots up at him is a dangerous one: eyes so dark, pupils so dilated with so much want. He looks as turned on as Drew feels, and that’s – very. _Extremely_.

“It’s nearly the end of the show,” Jinder begins, the words a little bit broken because of the way Drew’s moving on top of him. “We’ve come off the stage, and we’re waiting to go back on for the encore, and – and it’s just the two of us there, OK?”

“OK,” says Drew, understanding.

“Just the two of us and the roar of the crowd on the other side of the curtain or the wall or whatever, and they’re waiting for us, and they want us, but first, we want each other.”

“I want you right now,” Drew says, surprised at how low and teasing it comes out. He leans in, pausing the movement on Jinder’s cock, just letting it fill him up, and kisses Jinder. He stays close when he pulls away. “And…?”

“So, we can be quick about it, or we can make them wait,” Jinder tells him. “What do you think?”

Drew shudders just thinking about it. Or maybe that’s the feeling of Jinder inside him. Or both. Definitely both.

“If quick is like, a mutual hand job, and taking our time is a long, luxurious fuck, then I have no idea _what_ I’d choose.” Drew means for it to be completely sarcastic (because one: it’s just a fantasy, and two: who _wouldn’t_ choose a fuck?), but then he realises – with Jinder, he’d take anything. He’d take anything, because, well, with Jinder, anything is _good_. Anything’s good, great, perfect. Drew can’t ask for any more when it comes to him. “Well. I don’t care. I’d let you pick.”

“Hm. You know me. You know I think we’ve gotta be practical about things like this,” says Jinder, raising an eyebrow. “Can’t make the crowd wait, but I could certainly make _you_ wait if I wanted.”

Drew glares at him.

“Oh, fuck you,” he says, mock-serious, and for some reason, that makes Jinder grin up at him. “What is it?”

“Funny,” Jinder says. “I thought you were the one getting fucked right now.”

As if to prove his point, he bucks his hips up, pushing himself what feels impossibly deeper into Drew. Drew moans at that, long and loud and desperate, so Jinder does it again, with more precision this time.

“You like that?” he asks, both to tease and to see if Drew wants it, and there’s nothing Drew can do in response to that but whine and nod his head _yes_.

“Fuck, yeah,” Drew tells him. He matches the movement with one of his own, both of them finding the rhythm and keeping it, keeping it just as well as they stay in time on stage. There might be songs he’s got almost sick of playing – ones from the first album they played over and over on their very first tours, the songs he learned off by heart when he first decided it was the bass guitar for him and played over and over until the strings were painful on his fingers – but this, with Jinder, their own rhythm and their own song, is something Drew doesn’t think he’ll ever tire of.

He reaches out a hand for one of Jinder’s, lacing their fingers together and squeezing hard. It’s such a small action, but he hopes it gets across the message that he’s trying to send. He’s not as upfront and unabashed about his feelings as Jinder is about him, doesn’t go for grand gestures to show it, but he lets it show when it counts. He lets it show when it counts, and Jinder understands. Jinder squeezes Drew’s hand back, and then lets go, settling his own hand back on Drew’s hip, and then sliding it around to Drew’s ass.

Drew raises an eyebrow at him, smirking.

“Shut up,” Jinder says, though he’s smiling.

“I didn’t say anything.” Drew runs a hand through his own hair and starts to move again, _slow_ , really dragging it out, watching Jinder watch him. “You gonna make me wait now, then? Like you said you would?”

“Not now,” Jinder tells him. “Just – just wanna make you feel good.”

He pulls Drew down for a kiss, gentle, in case Drew doesn’t want it, but Drew just gives into it. He lets Jinder tangle a hand in his hair, lets Jinder keep him there. His cock is hard and leaking and feels so, so hot, pressed against their bodies as he’s leaning down like this. Neither of them have touched it much yet, the lack of contact serving to both prolong this and to make Drew want it all the more, but now it’s between them, now there’s pressure and friction and Drew groans into the kiss at how it feels. They have to break the kiss to breathe, but Drew stays close even then. The hand remains in his hair, and he kisses Jinder’s jaw and neck instead, still fucking his ass down on him, still breathing heavy and hard.

When Drew’s upright again, he gets a hand around his dick and starts to jerk, hand moving sharp and fast.

“Drew.” Jinder tries to prise Drew’s hand off of his cock. “Let me. I want to,” he says, and he wraps a hand around it when Drew lets go. The pace he sets is steady and even, slower than Drew’s hand was going, and he doesn’t move his eyes from Drew’s. He just looks on as Drew carries on, not so much riding now but just thrusting his hips forward to push his cock more into Jinder’s hand. Drew knows he could eventually get off without this touch, from only the feeling of Jinder inside him, but the added stimulation makes it so easy for him to come undone all the more quickly.

“That’s so good,” he says, hyperaware of the fact that he’s panting, that he’s just about damn near babbling as he continues talking. “Mm, please. Please, fuck, come on, yes, _yeah_ , over the tip like that, and–” The sentence – hardly even a sentence, more like a jumble of words – dissolves into a moan. Really, there’s no need for him to give instructions: Jinder knows just how he likes it, knows just what to do to get him off, but Drew can’t keep anything in. He’s always like this, always loud, always just seems to explode into a mess of half-broken words, a stream of consciousness spilling from his lips. “ _Oh_. Oh, fuck, Jinder. That’s it. That’s–”

Again, Drew’s words are cut off. This time, it’s because of more than just him needing to moan. This time, it’s because everything in his mind’s eye is suddenly too bright, is too much for his body to handle. This time, it’s because he’s coming, over Jinder’s hand and his own skin.

Jinder’s still looking up at him, something far past awe in his eyes, and soon enough, he’s starting to get overwhelmed now, too – Drew can see it in his eyes and on his face and hear it in his breathing – so he does his best to help Jinder get there. He starts up the movement on Jinder’s cock again – and _god_ , it still feels so good even though he’s already come – and it isn’t long before Jinder’s moaning louder, before he’s coming, his hips bucking up _hard_ into Drew.

They take a moment to both just catch their breath, and then Drew moves off of Jinder to lie beside him on the bed. Or, almost on top of him on the bed. Whatever. Drew isn’t fussed. They’re close, touching, skin warm against skin, and that’s what matters. Jinder kisses him on the forehead and reaches down to get the condom off himself.

“Shower?” he asks, and yeah, Drew agrees. “You go get it started. I’ll join you in a minute.” This time, he kisses Drew on the cheek, and Drew does as he says, heading to the bathroom to start up the shower. The controls for this shower are a little confusing at a first glance, but once Drew works it out, it’s a good one: both the pressure and the temperature are perfect.

Drew tilts his head back, getting his hair wet under the spray and closing his eyes. It’s so easy to relax to this, to the heat and the wet and the sound of the water, especially when the hazy post-sex feeling is starting to set in. A shower like this is so much better than any other alternatives on the road, so much better than the last one Drew had at a truck stop. He looks up when Jinder joins him a couple of minutes later, shower gel and shampoo in hand.

“Hey,” Jinder says, stepping under the water and placing the bottles on the shower rack. He has to be close to Drew for them both to be under the showerhead, and so he is.

“Hey yourself.” Drew leans in to kiss him, hardly even a peck, and then reaches to the shelf for the shower gel to get himself clean. He passes it over to Jinder once he’s done, and Jinder does the same.

“Want me to wash your hair?” Jinder asks, picking up the shampoo and uncapping the bottle.

Drew nods and lets him, moving out from under the water so Jinder can rub the shampoo in. He closes his eyes again as steady fingers massage his scalp, unable to stop the sigh at the sensation.

“I’ll do you now,” he says to Jinder once the shampoo’s been rinsed out, so he does. It takes significantly less time, and Drew sets the shampoo back next to the shower gel when he’s finished.

“Thanks,” Jinder tells him, and they switch places so Jinder can rinse out his hair.

They might both be clean now, but Drew wants to stay a while longer, so they do. Can’t go taking a shower like this one for granted. He leans against the wall, the tiles cool on his back and the water still hot against his skin, letting his eyes fall shut again.

It’s these moments, the calmest and quietest ones, that Drew takes to reflect on – well. Anything and everything, really. Both the good and the bad. Right now, though, it’s only the good things that even begin to cross his mind. It’s a big world out there, and he knows he’s lucky that he gets to see it, and even more so that he gets to see it doing something he loves with someone he loves by his side. He’d be lucky anyway, even if they weren’t together – he’d still be doing it with his two best friends – but one of them being his boyfriend here just makes it all the better. Drew doesn’t think he’d be lonely otherwise, but there’d be something missing for sure. Something that he never wants to lose now he knows what it’s like to have it.

This life on the road is ever-changing, a different city almost every night when they’re touring, and Drew’s always wanted that, but he knows he needs something else, too. An anchor, a constant. Something unconditional. That’s what Jinder is to him. _Unconditional_ might be a pretty big thing to ask of someone, but here, Drew thinks he’s got it.

He hopes he’s just the same thing for Jinder. In a different way, of course, because they’re different people with different needs and different things to give, but still. They mean the same thing to each other.

Really, it’s all of those thoughts that make Drew step forward from the shower wall and closer to Jinder again, that make him catch Jinder’s face in a hand and kiss him. It seems to take Jinder by surprise: he hums into it, sounding almost shocked by the suddenness of it even though it’s gentle.

(He kisses back, though. Of course he kisses back.)

“Love you,” Drew says, or, whispers, really, the words hardly heard over the rush of the water.

He’s answered by another kiss, one that says exactly the same thing back to him, and then, “And I love you.” Jinder cocks his head towards the bathroom door. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”

Once they’re both dry, Drew flops down in the middle of the bed on his back, stretching his limbs out across the mattress like a starfish. It’s so _good_ to have a proper bed again instead of a bunk that he just about fits in. He’s adapted to sleeping on the bus, sure, but this will be the best night’s sleep he’s had all week. And not just because of the bed: because of Jinder beside him, too.

“Excuse me?” Jinder’s looking at him from the foot of the bed. “Move over? There’s enough room for two?”

“There’s also a couch,” Drew says, jokingly raising an eyebrow, because for some reason, there is.

Jinder just shoots him a _look_ and gets on the bed, on top of Drew, kissing him when he’s close enough. Drew’s arms wrap around him, pulling him closer still and slowly manoeuvring them so they’re both lying on their side, facing each other.

“You still need to move,” says Jinder. “I _would_ like to actually sleep under a duvet tonight.”

Drew shifts across the bed and joins Jinder under the covers once he’s there. The sheets are soft and fresh and cool against his skin – _perfect_ – and he grabs his phone from where it had been charging on the bedside table to check the time.

“Hey, you should set an alarm on there,” Jinder tells him.

Drew shrugs. He doesn’t think they need to, really. After this, it’s another night in this same city, a second sold out show here, so it’s not like they’re travelling anywhere tomorrow.

“Heath will come and get us,” he says simply. “He knows what room we’re in.”

Jinder sighs and reaches over Drew for his own phone on the nightstand.

“I’m setting an alarm,” he says, swiping at the screen to unlock it. “We might not have to travel tomorrow, but we still need to wake up.”

Drew groans.

“You can sleep through it,” Jinder promises, but then he adds, “for about five minutes,” with a grin, and Drew kisses him to shut him up.

“Give me at least ten and maybe I’ll take it,” Drew says when he pulls away, and Jinder just shakes his head.

“Not a chance. Oh, there was something here I wanted to show you.”

He means on his phone, so Drew watches the screen, watches as Jinder opens up the music app. Drew isn’t quite sure what it could be yet – maybe an album recommendation for him to take a note of – but when Jinder taps on _playlists_ , he already _knows_.

“Another one?” Drew wonders, and Jinder shrugs as he taps the screen again.

“This is, uh, only a prototype, I guess,” he says. “Something I threw together on the bus the other day. Maybe it’ll change, but even if it doesn’t, I still need to get it on a disc for you.”

“You know, you’re like, one of the only people I know who still burns CDs.”

“Because I want you to have physical copies of the–”

“Of the masterpieces you compile to express your love for me, right,” Drew interrupts, smirking.

Jinder sighs.

“Here. Just take a look.”

He passes his phone to Drew, and Drew looks. The playlist is album length, twelve songs in total. Some of them, Drew knows and likes, and some, he’s never listened to before. There are a couple that make him want to roll his eyes: they’re _really_ , almost unbearably cheesy love songs, the kind that Drew loves to hate and hates to love but can’t help but feel somewhat fond of because of Jinder and these goddamn playlists. As much as he makes fun of them, the fact that someone could feel this strongly about him, that someone (that _Jinder_ ) _does_ feel this strongly about him, really warms his heart.

Drew scrolls down further, right to the end, and – _oh_. There, the last song on the list, is one of their own songs. There’s never been one of those on one of Jinder’s playlists before, and they’re not a romantic band by any means, but this song here is probably the closest thing they’ve got.

“Oh?” Drew points at the song title on the screen, amused. “What’s this doing here, then?”

“I just thought it fit with the rest of the songs? And don’t tell me that you weren’t thinking of me when the three of us were finalising the lyrics. Because I was thinking of you.”

“Of course you were,” Drew says. He doesn’t say _yes, you’re right, I **was** thinking of you, too,_ but Jinder knows that already. Drew _knows_ he knows that. “It’ll be a bit strange, though. Listening to this and thinking about you, about us, but oh, there’s Heath singing it.”

“Well, of _course_ he’s singing it. He’s _kind of_ the vocalist in our band?” says Jinder. “He sings your lyrics, too. When you write them. Or, when you show them to us, at least. I know you do more writing than you let on.”

It’s true. Drew does. The nice thing is that Jinder doesn’t push him into sharing any of it unless he wants to, that Jinder encourages him even if he knows Drew won’t let most of it ever see the light of day. It’s fine when he writes with Heath or if all three of them do together, but whenever he wants to get some words out that are all his own, they end up all – vulnerable. Personal. The idea of other people seeing him like that makes Drew’s skin crawl uncomfortably, makes him want to amp up who he is onstage even more so no-one can ever suspect that any other side of him even exists. He so badly wants to be able to write something that doesn’t make him feel like that, but once he’s got one of those ideas into his head, he can’t seem to stop his thumbs from typing out the words in his head into the notes on his phone, or his hand from letting the ink from some terrible, scratchy pen spill onto the back of a napkin from a restaurant they stopped at for dinner. He doesn’t know if he’s ready to let any of that out to people who aren’t his closest friends. Any people who aren’t Heath or Jinder, essentially. Even then, Drew tries to keep it all hidden, but they both know him too well.

He’s grateful that they know him so well, though. Well enough that sometimes, he doesn’t even have to say anything for them to know how he feels. Sometimes, he’d just rather keep it quiet.

And Drew’s especially grateful that he has Jinder beside him, always thinking the best of him, always trying to find something positive if he fucks up. There are times when it’s easy to believe that he doesn’t deserve that, but Jinder would tell him that isn’t true in a heartbeat.

“I might do, but they’re not the words that are out there, that are _here_.” Drew points to the song on the screen again. “To make this really, _really_ mean something, you should put a voice to your – or, our, I guess – words. The words you’ve apparently decided to apply to _me_ , to _us_. And by that I mean… your _own_ voice.”

“So you’re after exclusive material, now?” Jinder raises an eyebrow at him. “Just me and an acoustic guitar on the song? Or, not necessarily a recording of that, but a… private performance all for you?”

“Right,” Drew says. He’s half joking, but he can’t tell if Jinder’s being serious. It’s usually safest to assume that he is. “And you have to have your shirt off, too. All candles and moonlight and what have you.”

Jinder snorts.

“And you call _me_ a sap,” he says, reaching a hand into Drew’s hair and pulling gently.

“Because you are!” Drew exclaims. “That’s the kind of stunt you’d pull to surprise me for absolutely no reason. You know it is. Except now, I know, so you’re figuring out how you could make it even more of a surprise.”

Drew knows he’s right. Jinder shrugs, as if he’s been found out.

“I’ll see what I can do,” he says, because of _course_ he was being serious.

If he does actually go ahead with it, then Drew’s interested to see what he’ll come up with. He isn’t quite sure whether that particular song would even lend itself that well to an acoustic rendition, but he’s certain that Jinder would be able to arrange something that worked if he put his mind to it. He’s a goddamn good guitarist and a decent enough singer even if he could never be the frontman that Heath is (neither of them could be, to be honest – Heath just oozes charisma and showmanship, is able to light up a stage just by being on it), and that’s definitely enough that he’ll be able to make it something special.

It would be something special anyway, though – Drew knows it would. It would be all for him, and that’s what matters.


End file.
